


Blood Is Blacker

by hunnybunnie



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Punk, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Anarchy, Androids, Cannibalism, Guns, M/M, Please Don't Hate Me, Robots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28222059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunnybunnie/pseuds/hunnybunnie
Summary: Dr Robotnik has gone missing following a two year-long war between the citizens of Metro and his army of robots. Technically, they won, but Robotnik's robots are still controlling the streets and the man is gone.Cue Shadow and Sonic. One, a hired hitman out of work since the war and the other a hedgehog with a hero-complex the size of Texas.Here's the very simple and easy plan: find Robotnik and end his fascist regime...but, as we all know, things don't always go as planned.
Relationships: Scourge the Hedgehog/Shadow the Hedgehog, Shadow the Hedgehog/Sonic the Hedgehog
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not beta-ed even a little bit and I apologize in advance. I stole most concepts from another fic that I scrapped completely! <3

“We're going to regret this” was the last thing Sonic said before he plunged headfirst into the darkness of the portal.

Unprompted, memories of the last two months assailed Shadow as he stepped in after his partner, the darkness swallowing him whole.

_ TWO MONTHS EARLIER _

Robotnik was gone, seemingly killed in a war that had lasted a whole two years. It was over, and had taken thousands of lives with it. The only problem was: Robotnik's body was never found.

Metro was overtaken by robots that lurked in the day and stalked at night, snapping and grabbing anyone who didn't bend to the elusive Robotnik's will and stupid new laws.

Shadow was getting kinda tired after two years of fighting and didn't feel like living the rest of his life under a fascist regime, so resolved to dismantle the bucket of bolts they call  _ Dr Robotnik _ and continue as he had been. Alone.

Sonic The Hedgehog had a major case of Main Character Syndrome and therefore felt responsible for not only the war, but Robotnik's subsequent escape from justice.

Sonic and Shadow had similar goals: defeat Robotnik, get Metro back. Somewhere along the way they'd gained what they were pretty sure were feelings for each other that they were only now realising was probably just a bi-product of months and months in extremely close contact.

It didn't matter - they were a team now. They had to stick together. 

Sonic's eyes and hands still wandered, probing, searching for the fire that burned bright and hot at the beginning of their relationship. He didn't know Shadow had doused it. He didn't want any of this and never had, but he was stuck now. Shadow was well aware he was using the other hedgehog, but what could he do at this point? Nothing. Nothing at all.

They were endgame, and the search was nearing its end. He'd soon cut ties and leave, find his next thread. He didn't want Sonic to miss him. 

-

It was a cold night in November, the air around fogging with his breath. Shadow hunched his shoulders up farther, and walked briskly to the nearest bar. He'd left to get some fresh air, tiring of his boyfriend's whinging and moaning about there being no leads, like Shadow wasn't aware. 

Darkness had slipped over Metro, snuffing out the light of the moon and stars, and the street lamps in this area had been stolen a long time ago. The only thing he could see clearly in the ominous dark was a single bar, tucked away neatly into an alley, bright and raucous and lurid. It looked like trouble. It looked like escapism.

He stood in front of the door for a long while, smelling burnt fat, smoke and blood.

**THE BLUE-EYED OX**

_ NO ROBOTS, CYBORGS, OR FUCKING ANDROIDS!! _

He shouldered open the door to the hole-in-the-wall. There was music playing, but it was mostly drowned out by the sound of dozens of patrons getting drunk on a Wednesday evening.

He jostled a few swaying people and miraculously found a seat on the bar. He kept the fine leather of his jacket well away from the bartop and signalled a bartender with enough piercings to set up every metal detector in a five-mile radius to bring him a drink. 

“You new 'round here?” Shadow turned to face the voice and nearly bumped noses with a grinning fox. His smile was white and gold and one of his shiny eyes was milky grey. “I never seen you before. Though, ta be honest,” the fox chuckled, “I don't see much.” He chuckled dryly at his own joke but Shadow kept his face neutral, not wanting to start anything; friendships or otherwise.

The fox didn't give up though, pressing impossibly closer to Shadow in the already cramped space, filling up Shadow's air with the smell of smoke and vodka. “Hey...why you here?”

“What's it to you?” Shadow gritted out, shuffling back the only inch he had left until he was in his neighbour's lap.

The fox winked with his bad eye,  _ inspecting _ was the only word Shadow could think of and it made his skin crawl. He sneered and turned away, pointedly ignoring the fox's continued remarks.

“Not gonne answer me, eh? Thas fine, I deal with yer kin e'ryday...ya can play tough all ya like, yer a  _ pretty _ one--” At that moment, when Shadow was seriously considering starting a barfight, the bartender came back and knocked the fox over the head with their empty hand, handing Shadow his dark malt with the other.

“Ignore him, hun, he lost the last of his braincells in the war.” They were a fennec with light beige fur and were decked out with enough metal to rival a junkyard. “Anything else?”

“Do you mean the war with Eggman?” Shadow said instead, focusing on the fennec instead of the grumbling fox beside him. 

“Psh. Yeah, what other war has there been in the last hundred years?” They narrowed their large eyes, “Why, you weren't around?”

“I was.” He sipped his malt. Watching was less suspicious than asking questions right out of the gate. It seemed there were people here who were part of the twenty percent that couldn't get out of Metro when the war hit its peak, either because they were too late or too poor. He thought the former. The bartender leaned against the bar, fixing their eyes on Shadow, who pretended not to see.

“So. I take it you're one of  _ those _ .”

Curiosity got the better of him. “One of those what?”

“Those guys who think Robotnik is still alive.” This startled Shadow enough that he sputtered and set his drink down harder than he needed to. “Yup, I knew it.”

“Am I that obvious?” 

“Naw, is jus' that people don't usually ask about a war they certain of,” The fox piped up again, “Cause they lived it, know how it ended. Ya clearly don't believe it's over.”

Shadow grunted in affirmation. “Because it's not. Somebody got away.”

“Are you looking for him?” The fennec said, their ears twitching, “Because, I tell you, if--” they lowered their voice, as if afraid they'd be overheard in a bar where they were already near-shouting to be heard “-- _ Robotnik _ doesn't want to be found, he won't be.”

Shadow hummed, but internally, stored the information away for later. They'd have to go deeper. He almost didn't notice the fennec start talking to him again, leaning in and whispering conspiratorially: “But, I know some people who could...help you out.”

“Help me how?”

The fennec just grinned and disappeared behind the bar. They resurfaced a moment later with a black card, sliding it over to Shadow in a decidedly suspicious manner. 

“Call the number on that. Tell 'em Razzie sent you and you're looking for the good doctor, okay?”

Shadow turned the card over in his hands. It was plain black with only a series of numbers on it - no name, no address. “And what's in it for you?” 

They shrugged, “I get ten percent.”

“How much is it?”

“Call the number first.”

Shadow scoffed, pocketed the card and downed his malt. “Thanks.”

“No prob, dog.”

~~~

Shadow arrived home late. He'd left the bar around one a.m., but decided instead of going back into the eggshell wasteland of the apartment he shared with Sonic. He'd talk a walk first, get a real feel for the place.

He questioned a few drunks stumbling their way home or to their maker - depends on whether they ended up facedown or faceup in the gutter - and they all knew Robotnik, all despised his name; no matter how inebriated - it was a hate that went bone-deep. 

He got a few details from the especially blacked-out, their sense of Stranger Danger all but gone: a rumor that Robotnik had done a very naughty thing involving  _ time _ .

And where there's smoke, there's fire.

He slipped into the shared apartment quietly, listening for Sonic. The blue hedgehog was slumped over the kitchen table, blueprints of underground tunnels and maps piled around him, snoring gently. Half a cup of coffee cooling next to his head.

Contrary to popular belief, Shadow preferred him like this, stiller times when he wasn't fleeing the robocops or hopping from rooftop to rooftop and he could just _look._

Sighing, he tied off his boots and cut the kitchen lights off. There was no use waking him up, now, he wouldn't be able to get his much-needed sleep.

Morning would come.


	2. Blood In, Blood Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little flashback, to right after the end of the war.

Sonic doesn't ask, but he knows where Shadow goes at night. He smells like blood when he comes back. It blends with the black of his fur, makes the bright red of the streaks dark and sticks the strands together. The only place free will be his eyes, boring into Sonic, daring him to say something,  _ anything _ .

Tonight, he drops his knife on the landing, still sticky. He's stopped using guns since "antiques" (the ones without GPS and auto-aim and every other upgrade he refuses to touch) are hard to find nowadays. He has the one tac-9 - he's saving its only bullet for the middle of Robotnik's head.

Sonic's barely made a dent in the blueprints that he stares at until he goes cross-eyed. He's studied every map of the underground he could get his hands on. Where else could Egghead could've gone? It's been something like five months since the "end" of the war and he's starting to think maybe Shadow's strategy is more effective than his: torture those who were close to Robotnik for info.

He wishes he was doing literally anything else, but he doesn't do it for himself - he does it for all of Metro. It's become the dystopian future they weren't expecting for another five hundred years, when they'd be dead and gone. Yeah, the war made everyone creative with electronics, having had to take apart robot after robot because they  _ just kept coming _ \- but he doesn't need the plasma grenades or the guns that shoot balls of straight-up energy. He  _ needs _ a location for  _ that rat-faced bastard  _ so they can END this.

Every robot he puts out of commission means almost nothing to him because he knows there are a million just like it being manufactured by the thousands. Frustrated he pulls on his quills so the blood stops pounding in his ears.

Struggling to slow his breathing, he barely registers Shadow coming up beside him. The smell of smoke and metal pulls him out of the beginnings of a panic attack. Shadow places one warm palm on the back of his neck, soothing his frazzled nerves enough that the words in front of him don't look foreign anymore.

“How is it?” Sonic grits out, not looking up so he doesn't have to admit a piece of paper is tearing him apart.

Shadow grunts noncommitally, rubbing his thumb up and down Sonic's jugular. “The same. Won't talk.” He's been working on that Espio for a few days now. It's shocking how little that man has revealed so far. He used to be such a tattletale.

“You pushing hard enough?”

Shadow scoffs. “He's down to four fingers, I think I'm pushing hard enough.”

Sonic focuses on the rhythm of Shadows thumb and the blank white kitchen wall. “Maybe he doesn't know anything.”

He watches Shadow's shadow shrug and the heat of the other man's palm leaves his neck. “I'll try again tomorrow. Go sleep.”

Sonic huffs, but lets him leave, watching his back retreat down the dark skinny hallway.

+

Espio was, at heart, a man of science. Chemistry didn't interest him, nor did physics or biology. He was interested in the science of animal behaviour, what made everyone tick. Why they acted the way they do, kept the loyalties they did, broke the ones they broke.

Espio did not have  _ opinions  _ or  _ ideologies _ . He let the evidence speak. It rarely lies. Rarely.

Few things were predetermined, but the outcome of a war he originally wanted no part in was. Robotnik would win. He had a goddamn army of killer-robots how the  _ hell  _ would he lose? Metro would be taken and everything would change. Espio did  _ not  _ want to be on the wrong side of that change.

So, he changed loyalties, rallied allies. He was smarter than every detective on the MPD, more cunning than all the powerless politicians. He was ready for change.

Robotnik saw his efforts throughout the two years of violent takeover and appreciated him, took Espio under his glinting wing, and what an  _ honour _ it was, to work side-by-side with the greatest mind of his generation. He wouldn't change it for the world.

Even if it had all gone to shit.

Those  _ heroes  _ were never meant to make it half as far as they did. 

It's getting harder to breathe through the scratchy material covering his head. In reality, it's the same as it has been for the last three weeks, but the paranoia is starting to get to him. The pain is getting to him. The  _ smell _ …

He wants to scream, but he knows no one will hear him. Nobody does. It's cold down here, cold and damp.

He remembers it like it was yesterday. The way the heroes stormed the lab, guns blazing, magic flaring and blocking any regular person's vision, the horrifying sound of metal getting crushed, their only lines of defense reduced to compacted trash.

Nobody was supposed to know they were there. It was going so well, the police force had been dissolved and replaced with hyper-intelligent loyal androids, patrolling the streets, stopping crime. Metro should be so  _ grateful _ . 

Few things were predetermined. The genesis of a new world order was not. He had been wrong. He'd picked the wrong side. 

When the smoke cleared, he was on his knees, facing the carnage. There were  _ heroes  _ everywhere, turning the place upside-down, smashing glass and tearing down walls.

Cold metal was pressed to his bleeding temple.

“Where the fuck is he?” Shadow the hedgehog grit out, pressing harder, making Espio's heart ratchet up to his throat.

“I- I don't know, I  _ swear _ .”

“Sure about that?” Exhaustion and anger was painted in every line of Sonic's face. He was carelessly holding a tablet between his thumb and forefinger. He let it clatter to the ground in front of Espio. There was a note.

_ Espio, _

_ By this time, I am gone. To a better reality, more suited to our tastes. You know the one. You can follow me, if you wish, but if you don't, know I will never return. _

_ My work here is done. _

_ Dr Ivo Robotnik, Ph.D. _

“Wha- I swear I don't know what he's talking about!” The gun to his temple clicked and pressed harder. Espio could barely breathe, let alone understand what he was reading. What  _ better reality _ ? He was never…

“Chop chop, Rango.”

“I...I don't--”

Espio was violently pulled from his reverie by the sound of the metal door banging open.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is all over the place sdhhsdhnj it'll come together ok


End file.
